tales from the list
BY PAIX ROBINSON
MR. BROOKLYN BLUE
January 20th 2010
It happened again. 4 years later and it really happened. I almost wouldn’t have believed it, had it not been for the rain that decorated the scene and the smell that perfumed the audience of stars that looked on-I would call myself a storyteller.
It started earlier that day when the sun brought little light to the southern sky. After a well needed nap following my Xieme Republique course, I walked with frigid hands in my sanctuary of a pocket. I made a left from Rue Notre Dame onto a side street juste à côté to the city square in front of the Hôtel de Ville. Casually tracing the air to “L'aventurier” by Indochine. Walking downhill with black pen and blue marker stained Converse on the cobbles. Passing people I knew and locals I didn’t, without so much as a “ça va ou quoi?”
I entered the boulangerie at the bottom of the hill still shivering from the cold. The heat from the fire ovens only did wonders for those who worked behind the glass counters of delicatessens and melt on your dick breads. Covered in heavy clothes and scarves to shield myself from le mistral I presented shabby. Donning my staple winter silhouette, I hunched carelessly, eye fucking the cakes and little French sweeties just centimeters from my mouth. I heard my name and initially thought it was my own voice trying to snap myself out of my starvation. I darted my back up and twirled my head in the process. Allowing my many scarves to say “Huh?”.
I saw Rose in the corner and she was not alone. Is that normal? Yes, sure. The girl has hella friends, both French, American and many in between. What was ethereally abnormal was who she was with. Someone I had never seen before. Our little college town is truly a little college town. The only detachment to the general population we as the students have are the locals that don’t want to get to know us and we still see all the time.
I figured he was her new flame and walked over with a smile for a closer look. Rose and I exchanged les bisous and she introduced the Adonis to her right. Casual conversation ensued. He didn’t talk much and if he did I wasn’t on this plane long enough to make out human words. I lined the edges of his eye lashes and followed the creases of skin into the onyx of his eyes, traced in ripples of sky blue. I could see myself in the whites of his eyes and snapped myself out of it-this time.
Bewildered at the thought of being noticed for sodomizing this fair gentlemen with my senses, I kept my pupils on Rose, which was in itself a twickle to my libido. To see her is to know there are many gods who took part in her creation. My truths and dares however fell to the graves of her gentleman friend, and also “Yay!” not her lover. Noted it and did a happy dance inside. While in the dark, off in fantasy land I gave him the time to undress my lower half with his smirk and occasional chuckle. In my head I was still like… “attendre- what?-I comprend pas- oh mon dieu wait- I'm trés confused”.
I never notice when guys are doing the things with the eyes-until it’s too late. The greeting truly lasted maybe 180 seconds and I didn’t even leave the boulangerie with any goodies. I just swayed back and forth and when we gave our goodbye bisous, swung myself out the door and busted a quick left into the alleyway straight ahead. That alleyway has seen many things of me. Just a few nights back I was standing there drunker than I had been in a course of 48 hrs vomiting rather violently. To be fair, I started my regurgitation in the stairwell outside the apartment of my dear friend Mlle. Solitaire ( also known and hereby referred to as Muef Money) of which said alley also serves as a doorstep so I wasn’t completely alien to the space.
So I lingered there, below Meuf Money’s window and tried to write my brief encounter within my body as to hold it for the journal entry to come. I shouted up at the window “coucou!”-t’es la ou pas?..”, with a mischievous tone. I could hear Meuf clambering about like a beautiful cyclone. “ C’est toi chérie, n’est pas?!” She yelled from what I could hear was the bathroom of her bottle shaped nook. I looked to my right, Rose & Co. we’re just now leaving the boulangerie. “Oh fuck me”, I thought.
I wasn’t prepared for a reset of appearances. Rose’s top floor capital-H-shaped dwelling was in the building with its back to my stance in that very alleyway and Meuf’s window. The “Ça va chérie!” that hung over the window and the dart of skeleton keys that clunked to the pavement brought my attention back to centre. Which for me is always a little off.
Hours went by as the gloomy sun finally fell and gave its daunting power to the moon. I didn’t mention anything of the Prince Charming that had taken my mind asunder.
I’ve never had that conversation with Meuf or Maeve and since all three of us were set to venture out and about that night I wasn’t going to start the night with my take of closets and oh how they creek to open.
By the time Maeve made her way to us the only objective we all shared aside from loving each other always was getting fucked up. We pre-gamed at Meuf’s and smoked some hash we got from Mario (purchased in the alley) and drank red wine to a fever pitch. Once delicate and bold we sauntered out. The choice for starter was The Woo Who. Looking back on it, that was an odd agreement for me to make-even tipsy. I never go there anymore on account that the roommate I tastefully despise the existence of, works there. It was nothing but the fates at play and pints of Stella Artois for 1 Euro, 60 Centime. Of this I am sure.
We got there around 22h34. It was just in time for the DJ to have had his shots and lose control on the iTunes playlist the the bar owner, Serge, had chosen. We walked downstairs not caring who we bumped into or who rushed into us. As we descended into the stone cavern of E.U Top 40, I had a flashback of walking down that same staircase, months prior, high as a kite off coke and poppers with the Sweeds, Jas & Jan. Good times.
This time was not as Hunter S. Thompson as it could have been but I was just as happy to be young,drunk away from any form of a guardian. Encased by French culture and other students from countries I’ve never been to and probably couldn’t spell.
In my nonchalance I sat down on the high stool and shoulder-danced until I saw him again. From across the cave he was staring at me as he did just hours before. Only this time I was wearing less clothes for him to mentally undress. He slowly made his way over to the table. I gave my nervous hands a place to rest. He talked to what felt like everyone until finally he said “ hey” to me. Maintaining eye contact at a steady pace until I too received his coveted “Hey,”.
“Hey,” I said back, not knowing what to do or how to play it. Being in an actual rock cave as a club has an awesome ring to it, but logistically cares not for the conversation aspect of night Life. The traveling sound in all its natural glory made any attempt to speak an ever louder one.
“I’m Rose’s friend from New York what’s y—-”, I interrupted him with a genuine laugh. Not even a drunk laugh. He asked what was so funny and flirting back I said “Oh nothing. I just find it ironic that the first hot guy to talk to me since I moved here is American,”. After that, it was as if I had opened the door wide for any and all types of verbal and slight physical seduction. During our tunnel vision of a conversation he was pushed closer to me by an unknown drunkard and instead of moving back he stayed. He placed his arm on the back of my chair and I felt comfortable, unknowingly normal. Such is a concept, normal, I don't believe in. However, in that moment I felt nothing out of place.
In that moment I imagined what the gods could see; a washed out and morbidly aggressive pack of early twenty somethings purging our delights while building our character. Only sweeter, more inspiring. Every night here is like party at The Factory and all specimen are invited. Under the purple light that shimmered magenta and rose I didn't care who was watching me. It was too dark for any rumor to actually hold to accusation. No one could hear us but us, and that was difficult. No one could see our legs knocking one another but us, and that felt instinctual. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe Meuf, Maeve and even Rose could say they saw the way he and I together swayed. Yet and still I didn’t give a f**k.
This was the closest I had gotten to some male on male action in almost four years. All I could think was - don’t get too drunk.
What happened next shocked me at the time as it does surprise me now, in this recall. I finished my pint and leaned in closely to utter “Do you wanna go for a walk?”.Yep. Said that. I know! What in the hell did I think a Bill Compton whisper was going to do while the Black Eyed Peas gave a dated soundtrack to my lustful enterprises? I had no clue. But it hella worked. He mouthed his reply only with his eyes and for the first time in my body of cognitive thought-I knew exactly what he was saying.
His eyes were the only radiant light that could have been seen in the damp and dark crowd of what would be our wistful exit. He downed his drink and we left our friends and my foe with little respect for what was left behind. Nothing more than the Erasmus of pupils still belting to chat and aimless in their drinking.
Once we got to the top of the hill where the cobbled road met the paved street, we sat down near the traffic light. He stood in front of me. I quickly noticed Maeve smoking a cigarette outside with Kevin and Justin(pronounced Kev-een and Juice-tan). The thought had crossed my defense mechanisms to join their conversation and introduce the object of my genital desires as simply Rose’s friend. A trial I felt could have swayed such a jury to ignore the evidence of our exit in asking no further questions. I chose to leave in silence.
I was drunk enough to not need a coat in January and sober enough to analyse every inch of movement. A re-purpose of attire allowed me to glide with the wind leaving only my limbs to follow. He was wearing corduroys, an oxford shirt and suspenders. I thought about what kind of person he was back in New York. Whether we had crossed paths in the past during my frequent trips or if we would have ever met had it not been for us meeting that afternoon in the boulangerie. All of this to keep my mind calm as to not embarrass myself, trying to keep the hairs that stood one end at bay.
He was silent as I rambled on about bullshit. My word vomit was ushered in by my angst to fill the air with something other than nervousness. Wading in the water of the unknown he stopped me and said “you're so beautiful”, I came to a complete halt. “Really,” I snarled modestly. “Oh c'mon, I know you get that all the time,” was his rebuttal. “I mean, maybe I've heard it once or twice..but still. No,”. I was trying to be shy and cute a la Josephine Potter. Unbeknownst to my gifts of attractiveness-whether objectified or honest on intent. I guess it worked. He placed his hands in his pockets and asked “Can I kiss you?”.
I fell lobotomized-shocked beyond belief but still had to play it cool. “Yea...” I nodded.
He knew just what he was doing. The confidence I had once had in his eyes and what they told me faded away. Insecurity set in and I didn’t know what to do next. He grabbed my head and softly met my lips with his. I could feel the stubble of facial hair on my upper lip. It tickled and before the kiss was over I wanted it again. I laughed and he kept kissing. He must have really wanted it. So much so that after the soft and polite beginnings of the embrace had settled, we were horizontal on top of the bushes held up with concrete older than the Constitution of my native country. With arms and waists in the foliage we made noises. Forcefully we grabbed skin, clothes and hair-trying to feel all we could in the scene that was finally allowed.
With all of the above said and done, I had the balls to then ask “Do you wanna go back to my place?...” As if it was planned by the fates I pointed directly across the street towards the sign that read Rue Traverse Notre Dame. “My place is just right there,” I said. Under street lamp and the sounds of water committing crimes of passion to the cobblestone. He smirked in assumption that was my plan all along. It was sexy to believe I had preyed on him earlier that day. Maybe he thought I a more experienced casanova? As if I had done the research on where Rose would have taken him and purposely arrived to the cave and intentionally lead him down into my rabbit hole of sexy sexy dirty things. All in the hopes to get him into my bed. He wasn't wrong. He also wasn’t right. From the moment he kissed me I felt the inclination of sex. Or at best something sexual. I can't explain it, but I knew that I had him right where he wanted me. “Sure, let's go”, he said as he grabbed my hand and I lead him across the street. Then, it started to rain.
Liquid clear fell from the sky making everything glitter. I took his hand and began to run with an open mouth smile. Gaily frolicking to the other side of the road like blocking from a script of a Studio System picture, starring two heterosexual co-stars, backed by big budgets and properly placed sprinklers. “Why are we running?” he asked, and again like a moment from the silver screen,I replied “Why not, it's raining,”. We made it across the street when he lunged me up against the grated window of storefront. He drove his pelvis into mine, grinding his penis into mine making them both stand at attention. He slid his hand around my waist in into my pants where he dabbled with my arse.
I was breaching new territory with the swag of someone who was aware of his wants and knew how to see them develop into reality. I was no whore, but in that picture, against that wall with one hand in my a**hole and the other on my face, it was worth much more than words could afford.
We stopped kissing after the third or fourth car zoomed past us with headlights only allocating blinks of sight in the wet and cold then close to midnight haze. He held my hand and we walked to the the corner. We came around the bend and under the only street light that stood for half a mile, walking in our direction, Rose and the roommate I wish to forget. Especially at a time like that. It was too obvious to change the tempo but we released the moisture between our fingers and acted as natural to the run-in as possible. We spoke just as we passed the lamp light. We tried not to bring with us the effects of what had just occurred and not to elude too much of the actions that were going to take place. We weren’t that convincing.
The ripples of our meeting were obvious. Rose introduced her friend to my roomate in a speed of rhetoric that let the body keep moving as to not lose momentum of direction. Thankfully. There was nothing I could do but live in the moment. I’m getting better at that and he is a large part of that. The a** of a roommate and our mutual friend and femme fatale didn’t linger or slow the pace as I'm sure they wanted to report the breaking news of this encounter to everyone back at the good ole’ Woo Who.
With them behind us we conjoined ourselves once more. We had to creep up the stairs as not to wake the family that lived below me and owned the building. It made the situation even more heated. As we tiptoed to my room I found a calm resolve because the chase was over. There was now absolutely zero doubt that sex was going to be had.
Once inside my room, I locked the door with my skeleton key and began to de-robe. “No, don't,” he said, as he walked over to me, both of us dripping with leftover rain and lust. He kissed me harder this time, biting my lip and giving me no choice in the matter. I pushed him backwards to my bed and told him to lie down. He started taking off his clothes and I watched. The suspenders were no match for the suspension of disbelief that I had knowing that I was decimals away from sexual intercourse with a young adult male.
I relished in the moment as I consider this my first time, even though it totally isn’t and you already know that. Wearing nothing but baby blue briefs he started to stroke himself and I continued to take it all off.
Next I was naked on top of him with my fingers entrenched in his chest hair and my thighs on the sides of his skinny frame. “Wait!” I erupted, not to stop the impending sex but to set the mood right with “Generique,” by Miles Davis. Duh.
Once the music was set I re-mounted and arched myself upright to get a full body look. I had to take in the moment in all its glory. Just in case the Lucifer decided to return to the room that he too called home. I pushed his torso down from the hold his lips had on mine, and scurried downstream to take him in my mouth. It had been almost 5 years since I had done this, but it was like jumping into a pool that once was yours. “Sorry, I'm not that big,” he humbly said, which didn't matter to me, and I told him just that. It made my job easier as I held the base with one hand and stroked the shaft in and out of my salivated mouth with the other.
His breaths increased in sound and his stomach stretched far and wide. I slid my tongue along the sides of his c**k while staring at him straight in the eyes. I elongated my neck and used both hands to rub his chest while placing a finger in his mouth. He began to fuck my throat like it was the only way he could survive. In turn, giving more ammunition at the reality of me giving him such pleasure. I could tell he didn't want to cum just yet as he rose himself up and reached for my penis. He took it and coated my skin with his. He grabbed my ass as he hoisted me up onto his core, rubbing his front with my back. “Hold on,” I said, in a soft Traci Lords whisper this time. I reached for a condom and he prepared himself in the position of his liking.
Before anything else could transpire, the gentlemen spoke “I’m clean, what about you?” There was nothing that was going to stop this childhood nightmare turned young adult day dream come true so I said yes.“I haven't had sex with a guy or girl in almost a year and I've been tested, so yea I'm clean as they get,”. A large part of that was true. I took a risk, but not before weighing out my possible outcomes and I chose to move forward. So forward he went. Laying me down on my back after putting on the condom I had stashed for masturbation purposes-because its easier on the clean up.
He was aggressive-or what I assumed “rough” butt love to feel like. Could have been 100% normal, I wouldn’t know. I acted like it didn't hurt but the pain echoed throughout me like hot irons a blaze in my stomach and a stampede along the walls of my anus. Somewhere in all that physical anguish, the sensuality of two men having this animalistic exchange made everything feel like clouds of ecstasy. It lifted us both above the mortal realm, where Hermes himself could deliver no message. He made my entire body pulsate. Causing each limb to rotate to its own heartbeat. He forcefully escorted every arm, leg and neck to move at his command. He made me whimper and gasp for more of something I was just given.
In the window, he hit it standing reverse cowgirl. Slapping my lower half with the base of his torso making the treble drum to the already booming jazz that boomed.
On the floor, he gave me everything in missionary. Pushing my joints further back than any ballet class had ever taught. Raw sodium dripping from his forehead to mine, exchanging nectar of ripe tongues and lips.
Beside the bookshelf, I stood upright and with him still inside me I looked back at those blue eyes and smiled as he elongated my wrists to the far opposites of every picture frame and textbook that fell. Back on the bed I rode him with little regard to the sleeping landlords below, whose master bedroom was directly underneath mine. Faster and faster I galloped, knowing I was now in control of my sexual fantasy.
Yet in still, he owned me. His silent direction made me quiver and grind deeply into the base of his being like I was searching for something that had no end in sight. I felt myself get warmer and saw his expression whimper. He was almost there, as was I. For one last time he tossed me on all fours and held me between the creases of my bones. With perfect handles he groped me, jabbed and nabbed me as we both breathed heavily and shouted with rapture. “Oh my god- I'm almost there.”
And then we just…arrived.
After, we laid in bed sticky and wet. My head on his hairy chest, and his arms around me. My head lifted with each pant for air he took.We locked our legs around each other, as Miles seamlessly tooted his horn, we tooted our own.